Fables of Naurasia
by Leaf and Quill
Summary: Not connected with action from Oban. Just a young girl reading a book titled Fables of Naurasia given by a certain Naurasian prince...
1. Prologue

"See ya, Daniel. Same time tomorrow?"

"Sure, Eva. Only next time, remember the history book. We need to study…"

"I know. I won't forget!"

"That's what you said about the grammar book, the science text, the…"

"Look, I'll tie a ribbon on my finger for it," Eva smirked from the driveway, "_If_ I have one." Her study partner laughed out loud from the doorway, "Well, remember this time." Eva just smiled and waved good-bye as she slung her book bag over her shoulder, ready to ride home on her rocket seat.

She was cruising at a low speed around Daniel's neighborhood; the memory of the rude traffic cop still delicately raw in her mind. Rounding a corner, she spotted a late garage sale packing up. Just for the fun of it, she stopped to take a look.

Most of the labeled boxes were filled with old, handled toys, another of clothes in the same condition. The items she would have been slightly interested in were already carted back into the house. Turning around to leave, however, something caught her eye.

A slightly battered book stood in front of her, cover made to look like a leaf embossed with a bronze title. Curiosity aroused, Eva walked toward it and dusted the cover, reading the peeling words after her sneeze blinded her for a bit:

_Fables of Naurasia; translated by Medina Smith,_ it said.

"Can I help you?" A voice jerked Eva's surprised mind over to the woman working the sale. "Um, sure," she said, showing the lady the book, "How much does this cost?"

"This thing? Well, aren't you the surprising one. Aren't you affected by the current force of negativity aimed at the "Crog's puppets"?

"Uh, no. I met a nice guy, a Naurasian, and he became my pen pal." She wasn't lying; the prince of Naurasia, busy though he was, usually sends one letter per week to her door via winged (and feathered) serpents able to cast small portals to outside her window every Monday morning, patiently waiting up to two days (she never pressed her luck) for her to quickly write a reply.

"Pen pal; well, aren't you an old-fashioned person. Tell you what; since you're so kind with people like him, I'll let you have the book for free."

"Really? I-I mean, no, I'll pay you for this…"

"No, dear; just promise that you'll stay his friend and never turn your back on him. Princes usually don't go against the people who owe them kindness."

Eva was halfway down to the curb where her rocket seat was parked when the irony of the woman's words hit her. _Prince_? "Hey, how'd you know..?" She stopped yelling when the lady smiled at her from her door, and closed it.

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The lady walked into her home office and started a letter: _My dear Aikka, this is your cousin Maralin writing from her humble abode of Earth. I finally met your young friend and have given her your gift…_

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Eva, once reaching the main road, sped like an arrow down to her home. "Eva, is that you?" Her father, Don, was working at dinner when she came back in, yelling, "Later, Dad; got work to do," as she jumped the stairs two at a time up to her room.

The steady light of late afternoon met her as she opened the door at the far end of the second floor. Putting down her book bag, Eva leapt into the armchair usually reserved for homework, _Fables_ in hand. Burying herself amongst the pillows, she opened the cover to have a card fall out. The cover was hand painted; a scene of beauty as she pulled her eyes over the flowing river, the starlit streets, and the two moons among the white stone houses and groups of Naurasians walking the paths.

Inside: _Eva, the Festival of Blooming requires me to send gifts to all my close friends. I trusted this to a close acquaintance of mine to pass on to you, seeing that the mail couldn't handle packages that well. May your days be filled with life; sincerely, Aikka._

Placing the card on her nightstand, Eva opened the book and began to read.


	2. Airrik and the Twin Waterfalls

**Author's note**: Oops! Forgot the disclaimer!

Eva, Aikka, Don, and Naurasia (spelled Nourasia but I like it better with an "a") are the property of Sav! The World productions.

And on to the Fables!

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_Eritan_ and_ Quensali_, the twin grand waterfalls of the Sky-Torn Cliffs, have not always poured its heaven-sent fresh water down below into the salty Myrith Bay. Oh no, my listeners, only a frank accident eons ago have brought up the magnificent sprays of water located in the cold Northern region, where the snow is long kept past any other:

The god of cold, Lord Airrik, have dwelled alone in peace for as long as he could remember, being the only living entity on the lonely planet that has the ability to withstand the frigid conditions reigning year-round. However, as any person would, he got lonely, and sought companionship.

Fetching supplies, the god forced himself out of his domain to seek another who can spend time with him in the icy palace of the North.

Trudging south, he first came upon a small village on a sun-drenched patch of shoreline tundra, occupied by early Naurasians, right now camping around a fire. Stuck up beyond the glaciers, he has never heard news from his brothers and sisters about the new beings of the land. At a loss of thought, he used his shape-shifting powers and made himself into the form of one of them, walking up in their thin, strange clothing.

"Friends, may I stay the night," he asked, putting up a hand in greeting. The huddling group turned to face this new traveler of the barren, cold lands around them. One, obviously the leader in the sense that he alone wore the old, traditional headdress his sister, Natura, wore, curling onto his forehead and stopping above his brows, spoke up, "We are a peaceful people, never living on the flesh of others. We alone faced this banishment from the warmer regions of the midline plains of wheat and grass. But," he said, "But we do not turn away any visitor in need of help. Be warned, however, that shelter is all we could offer, nothing else."

_One_

Touched by the man's integrity, Lord Airrik accepted the offer, finding his way to one of the ice-worn wooden shacks currently vacant. Noticing the shabbiness of it all, he took pity on the party and bid the ground around the area to grow snowberries. He was satisfied when, unpacking, one of the group came in politely and handed him a full basket of the plump grape-sized fruits.

_Two_

_This new creature is very civilized_, thought Lord Airrik as he nibbled on the berries one by one. _I wonder which of my family had the thought to bring them up from the depths of Creation?_ As he was pondering the thought, the leader himself came in.

"My humble guest, please step outside for a celebration in your honor. Since you have stepped among us, the shrubbery have grown around the area; new species never seen by our kind, but edible all the same. Because of your luck, we have emerged from a near-frozen death to a cheerful clan once again."

Led out, he saw a roaring bonfire and dancers smothered in leaves around it. He was given the place of honor at the rough table brought out; first to serve the meager pickings not already eaten.

_Three_

As the third act of kindness emerged in his mind, he emerged into the astonished crowd as himself again, towering over in a robe of white and blue. "You have granted me plenty, although you could have not chosen to. Tradition has led you here at my feet and a blessing. From now on, your village will be the flowering garden of the icy lands; enriched with food and love; a blessing to all who come."

All bowed before him, the leader asking, "O, mighty one, thank you for your words. Is there anything else you seek before you return?"

Reluctant though he was at saying it, he cannot tell a lie, "I wish for companionship, but only if the person him or her self allows it."

"Then we will go." Shock sped through the crowd as the leader's twin sons stood and faced Lord Airrik. "We, Eritan and Quensali, allow ourselves to become your companions in your abode, wherever it may be."

"Come then, to my home in the land of ice," he bellowed, then faced the rest of the group, "They will be in good hands; remember the promise of Lord Airrik, god of cold."

The leader wept as his sons were whisked away in a cloud of snowflakes.

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Time passed, and thirty years flew by on Garnu's wing of time. By now, the twins were fully-grown men: guards, advisors, and students of Airrik. They knew now no other home than from the icy palace; having lost all memory of those nine years at their family's lodge.

But the people have not forgotten; and now stronger, they aim to return the young princes back home, for the leader has just died of frozen limbs. About to fall apart, one suggested the deed, and now half of the town marched bravely into the cold. Energized with hate, the raiding party found the palace in two days, and saw the god himself come out of the glistening building. The entire assembly aimed their new arrows of ice at the figure, and fired.

Lazily, Airrik was about to melt them all when before he could do so, two men threw themselves at the barrage of sharpened ice. Before they could hit the ice, they were dead.

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Eritan and Quensali, having had their last moments defending a god, were blessed in death on both sides of the Gates. Their spirits were sent in comfort, memories of them forevermore. Airrik, wracked with grief, cast a spell that shot up the low-lying village into one that straddled a cliff. The bodies of his beloved friends became rivers, surrounding the tiny village with a ribbon of drinkable water, pouring down the white snowy cliffs into the rocky shore below.

Now the villagers have long gone away from their small houses. The only memory left was a carved tombstone of everlasting ice right where the long river split into the _Eritan_ and the _Quensali _rivers: _Dearest friends, dearest sons, dearest to us all. _

Vocabulary:

- "…headdress his sister, Natura, wore." (Para. 5): the Royal headband that Aikka wears

-Garnu (Para. 16): God of time

-"Frozen limbs" (Para. 17): Gangrene; a disease brought about by severe frostbite

-Gates (Para. 19): Woodpast Gates; gates one passes through to die

**All vocabulary is of my own imagination, except for the headband (kind of) and "frozen limbs". Gangrene really is nasty buisness.**


	3. The Farmer and the Scythe

**Author's note:** I'm going to try a moralizing story this time, with no prologue, much like the original Aesop's Fables. Please comment on which type of story, legend or moralistic, you prefer, and I'll keep on the series that way.

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There once lived a farmer by the name of Cathic. His farm lay on the western slope of Canernon, the fire-mountain of the eastern shores far from any town, so he was used to making or growing anything he needed.

One day, however, there came news of a new invention; a scythe widely believed to be able to cut any grass-related crops such as the _endules_ growing mainly on his farm. Unable to get hold of a prototype to copy, Cathic decided to go down to the town for the first time in seven years to get himself such a tool.

Being as the lazy farmer he was, his pack was light; most of the weight made up of the dried fruits and water leaf-bags. Once the preparations were done, he started the long trek going down the valley, through the small desert, past the river, and into town.

At first, all went well according to plan. Venders passed him on the road, offering "necessities" such as extra water, food, and walking shoes. Well, for the moment, Cathic's shoes were whole and supple, seemingly able to carry him all the way there. And so Cathic didn't take the chance to replace his walking shoes when he could have.

Quite some time after he'd seen the last seller, Cathic's shoes, so accustomed to walking only the small, soft-soiled farm, began to give out on the hard path they were placed on. When night approached, the shoes have now become no more than rags wrapped loosely around his aching and bleeding feet.

The next morning, Cathic found himself at the start of the desert; an oasis to his torn feet when carts led by _remnules_ were being rented out nearby. Passing the well, for his half-full water bags were substantially filled, he walked past it all and talked with the renter. Finding some extra change in his pockets, Cathic borrowed a cart and went on his way.

The day was still new when thirst wrought its steely grip around Cathic's neck. Trying to wait it out, he finally gave in and drank. This happened quite a few times until, late in the afternoon, his water supply ran out. Cathic was forced to stay his thirst through the night.

His next morning was a relief because the end of the desert was there. Going to the twin cart rental, he returned the _remnule_ cart and raced down to the clear, sweet waters of the Nevana River. Drinking his fill, Cathic filled half his water bags (for the weight was tormenting) and tried to seek out the place to borrow a boat.

The shore was riddled with food merchants selling various appetizers, snacks, and full meals, none of which tempted Cathic since last time he peeked inside his pack, the various dried fruits were still in plentiful supply. In a short time, he found a sign reading "Boats to rent" and joined the queue outside of the tent. Soon, he slowly gentled a small rowboat into the water, getting into it himself. The trip will be easy, he thought, since the boats row and steer themselves downstream nonstop for an entire day right into town.

The waves gently bounced him up and down the seat, making the scant remnants of breakfast leap around uncomfortably. And when he gets irritated, he eats. It was too late to realize a half hour later that his bag was empty of his dinner. Cathic now kept his hunger from rearing with small sips of water, knowing that if he drank too much, the amount of liquid waste he would produce would overflow the chamber pot with him; and he had no desire to go into town smelling so foul.

Hunger closed itself when he came onto shore the next morning, temporarily easing its pain with the fruit of amazement. So much has changed since those seven years ago that he hardly believed that it was the same town by the river. But as minutes rolled by, the pangs returned to his stomach, making him rush over to the nearest vendor selling anything edible.

Smarter than last time, now Cathic stocked up on food and a new pair of walking shoes, later walking down to the river to refill the leaf-bags. Last of all the jobs were to go down to the square and see the scythe that caused all the trouble for him the last three days. The crowd once again gathered for the demonstration taking place in the mid-afternoon, Cathic squeezing through to the front.

The scythe causing all the uproar was of a strong wood, blade of a silvery, shiny metal, capped with a length of wood connecting it to the handle. The entire thing would have, magical or not, made Cathic's day any time, anywhere. After a few showings in which multiple types of grasses were sliced like a hot knife through butter, the sellers began taking money and giving out the shining devices in return.

Pulling out his purse, Cathic was about to slap his money down on the table when something felt wrong. His hand, on withdrawing his coins, came out half as full as he needed. Confused, Cathic wriggled out of the crowd to count how much exactly he had on him. He needed four brasses, but time and time again, only came out with two.

Not believing in what he saw, Cathic sat there in the dust, surrounded by new owners of the long magical blades. Coarse tears trickled down his face. He picked up the moneybag thrown angrily at the ground and placed his handful of coins back in. Tying it back onto his belt, Cathic trundled towards the upriver carts as the sun set on his back, making the scene truly peaceful to the now-wiser farmer.

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Vocabulary:

-Fire-mountain (Para. 1): Volcano

-Endules (Para. 2): A kind of grain

-Remnules (Para. 6): A horse-like creature with thick, flat feet able to cross deserts easily, but slowly.

-Brasses (Para. 14): About equivalent to fifteen US dollars each


	4. The Isle of Relmarka

Relmarka. The largest isle on Naurasia, it spans almost a whole face of the planet and contains more ecosystems than any other isle present. From grassland to grillic, from seashore to swampland, this mass of life is a deserving memory to its creator.

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From the beginning, Naurasia was a floating ocean. No land was in sight for any new species wanting to reach out for the light above the waves. Soon, a small group of the ocean inhabitants were tired of doing nothing but swimming below the light, and so they went to the first gods for advice on how to face their strange predicament.

The group of nine deities was all content to stay below the surface, and so provided some reassurance that underwater was the best thing for all. "Here is plenty of food."

"You would dry up if you stayed above the surface too long."

"Only in water can you move in any direction you want."

"Wind and waves and dryness can take you from up there."

Most of the discontent settled down at the features they had taken for granted. But a select few stubbornly stayed with their decision, and stayed to badger the gods even more until they can find even a smudge of dry land. With their fierce determination, they actually attracted some attention from the lazy gods.

Realmara was one such god which the land-beggars had pique interest out of. He was a livane, a rare green-backed one, and he supported the persistent creatures outside their home. So, seeing that his brothers and sisters had grown idle with the tides, he took action into his own life.

Sneaking out of the underwater palace one day, Realmara swam to the silt-layered ocean floor and started to pile up the mud. It was futile after five minutes, in which he saw that the pile did not stay whole with the current brushing against it. And so he tried using stones. The large summits of the underwater mountain range nearby provided the rock and foundation. But soon after the placement of the first slab of orrim, the waters darkened with night as Realmara finished the first layer of his proposed pillar of rock.

Nobody questioned him on his return, thankfully. He used the side door and swam straight to his chambers, floating gently onto bed, fast asleep before settling on the kelp cushion.

The next day, Realmara was sore all over from scooping stones onto the foundation spot. Despite the pain, he finished a quick breakfast and packed a bulky lunch to make up for it. As he approached the peaks, he was pleased to see that the currents didn't affect the positions of the stone. Covering most of it in mud, Realmara began another layer on top of the covered stone. Finishing two layers, he pressed the mud down hard, making sure that it stayed by wrapping some bands of kelp into the silt and stone.

Wolfing down lunch, he rested for a while, doing some easy swimming and wondering what to tell his fellow swimmers. _I'll come to that when it comes_, he thought.

Three more layers were done before he swam back for dinner, weary but pleased at the progress he was making. The pillar was already as high as he was. Doing some social talk, he went to bed early, dreaming of what will happen when he finished.

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For the next three moon-turns, Realmara followed an identical schedule as on the second day. This, however, has gained suspicion, going as far as getting tracked stealthily through the orrim quarries. By the time the pillar was five layers from the surface, Realmara has gotten followed, tagged with, sealed in his room, starved, beaten, chained, and ignored; all for the meager number of beings still outside his window. Well, some for his own benefit also; the starlight was always so pleasing to the eye, if not for the skin.

"Al…most…there…" The final rock for the last layer underwater was being inflexible about budging from its resting place. Gritting his teeth, Realmara tugged the kelp string harder towards the top of the large pillar. The last few yanks were tiring out his complaining back, flattened to act like fins. Swinging the other way, his tail dropped the stone right into position among its pillar mates.

Cheered by his success, the pain was forgotten as back and forth he sped between the high and low, heaving piles of enriched mud up to the top of the strong mound of rock and silt. He was so wound up in his work and exhilaration that he kept on right through dinner.

Of course, his siblings weren't completely blind. They noticed his absence, and after eating, sped off to see what had blocked their usually gluttonous brother from the biggest meal of the day.

It didn't take long for the company to find Realmara giddily slapping more mud onto the now-obvious island.

With their fierce detestation of the surface, the troupe surprised the livane by ramming into the pillar. Unsteady it still was, and so the stones began to fall apart.

Realmara didn't intend to attach himself so firmly with his creation, his piece of art. But with the first hit, all reasoning left him and he sped his sleek body right up to the top so quickly that with a _splash_, his body flew out of the water and onto his island.

Down below, the chargers realized that their beloved brother had not come from the jump. Fearing the worst, each of them snuck slightly up till one touched the surface of the everlasting ocean, seeing the only blemish in the all-around lapis lazuli. On it was the still twitching body of Realmara, settled ten feet inland out of their reach. And as they watched, the last of his watery magic gripped his shaking body.

At first, nothing seemed abnormal as he flattened out, but then instead of staying down, his coiling body reached into the open sky. Skin split under the cocoon of aquamarine sparks that _was _the color of his magic, changing into green as the starlight from above spewed across the waves. One touch from the white rays of light, and new things formed out of the old scaly body. Great limbs stretched into the sparkling sky as roots tore hungrily into the muddy ground. Out of those brown branches sprouted scales; no, leaves the sparkling color of emeralds. Ridges formed around the massive trunk now threatening to grow bigger than its island.

Scared for their brother, the sea gods around the island now put up a restraint on the fast-growing tree, slowing its growth right up to the shore. Finally slowing to a steady halt, the tree bathed in the amazing starlight filtering through the clouds. His siblings were in awe of their brother's work in providing such an astonishing _thing_ that each of the eight deities provided some sort of comfort to the everlasting tree.

"My dear brother, may the star above shine forever on your beautiful form."

"May the earth below never run out of minerals."

"May pure water be always in plenty."

"May life find itself upon you forever."

"May every creature give you respect."

"May you return the favors bestowed on your form to your home."

"May you hold in your body the knowledge of everything."

And last, Realmara's favorite sister, Gryffe, gave the biggest blessing of all, "May the land below expand to your liking, as your last moments among us were spent with the core of it."

Gratitude rained down on the eight as shining petals blossomed and fell from the limbs over and over, perfuming the air sweeter than has ever and will ever become.

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Eons of time passed as the tree stood its ground. Combining Gryffe's blessing with his own magic, Realmara expanded the land a bit more each passing year when his leaves fell for the freezing time. Eventually, his people colonized the land, recognizing him as a child identifies its father. Having grown up underwater with the story, they treasured the tree and grew green companions; grass and shrubs and trees, to help bring life to the land.

Passing more years and more moon-turns, one day Realmara awoke suddenly to find that he himself wanted to help not only as a magical tree, but also as a living, moving god. He twisted and twitched, squirmed and stiffened to no avail, but his will was so strong that once upon a starset, the leaves of his body fell early and formed a body in which part of his spirit flowed into. His new form was feminine, but it didn't matter. Taking her first step, a name was let into the twilight air: _Natura_.

Natura first blessed the tree herself, and then went among the creatures of land. Gathering with them under the limbs of a starlit tree, she pulled a speech to their eager ears, "My children, my land is great and will expand. But remember this tree, my original body, and respect it to the end of time. We have stepped forward from sea and stayed on land; we have chosen to leave behind much for what happens next."

"Time will tell of a new age for all creatures of land or sea or even air to take a stand together in peace. Everyone is equal in their own way and has their own personality and their own life ahead. May I hope to last till that day comes for all of us, for gods and mortals alike, to see one star together, to see one sky together, to see one land and ocean together. I want one and all to be free to their choice in life to support one another till that day comes.

"My children, remember this tree, this dol tree, first of its kind and the father of all. Remember this time, in which your father now walks among you as a mother. Remember this land, this named land: Relmarka."

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Vocabulary:

-Isle (Para. 1): In Naurasia, word for continent; large "islands" with Keeper (like a president of a country) in control. Never has border on same land mass; ocean is the border between isles and its islands.

-Grillic (Para. 1): Desert of quicksand; very few patches of dry sand and/or sturdy earth.

-Livane (Para. 8): A snake-like water creature that can curl and flatten to imitate a large leaf.

-Orrim (Para. 9): Volcanic stone very well known to be good foundations in rather unstable landscapes that buildings are being built on.

-Moon-turn (Para. 13): Thirty-seven days.

-Freezing time (Para. 33): Winter

-Starset (Para. 34): Sunset


	5. Amidy's Troubles

**Author's Note**: I could not do anything about the spacing with the songs. It's supposed to be in stanzas, but...

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If one would listen closely while standing anywhere on the open plains of the Southern Fields, music and laughter may resonate in the air around the fields of grain and crops. Most likely, the sounds would be trailed to Amidy, a young musician with knowledge of fifteen instruments and, as they say, fifteen thousand songs. But this did not taint her one bit, for all she had was passed voice and hand down endless generations. The wagon she sat in now, playing an easy folk dance tune for the children before her, was rather new; three generations old, but fully equipped to carry all fifteen of her most prized possessions.

Finishing the last beat on the yazin she had played for the last minute or two, she got up to leave, but the children tossed small coins at her, knowing full well she needs them, whether she asks for it or not. Smiling gratefully, Amidy swept up the coins and danced with the delightful youngsters for a while. As the star set below the horizon, she bid them good-bye and began to drag the light wagon onto the road aimed for the next village.

On the way, part of the road fell into a muddy hole just before the bridge. Stopping just in time to not sink in, Amidy was stumped on what to do. The easiest action is to unroll the extra skin for yazins and spread it over the mud to prevent the cart from slipping as it went along, but Amidy would never do that.

So instead, she took time to weave grass nearby into a rough mat big enough to become the tracks for the wheels of the wagon. After she was done, she planned to take the grass mats to the nearby stream to wash them, then she placed them slightly sodden on the floor of the wagon for later use. Amidy learned from the beginning that anything even slightly useful should be saved.

The moons were well on their travel across the sky when her wagon finally made it onto the other side of the road. After giving the mats a rinse, she pulled the wagon over the hill, just to see that another obstacle blocked the road ahead. A flock of wooly beeme had broken loose from its field and had draped itself over the path. This problem is most easily solved by throwing shiny things, such as the pegs from a mani, onto where ever they need to get to, but Amidy would never do that.

So rather than waste those valuable music pieces, she took the time to slowly guide them back into their field, using some pushing and leading. Halfway through, the herder came over the grass to assist her in the slow shoving, and so she got through the path in less than an hour. Of course, in leading the beeme back to their field, some loose wool had managed to get stuck on her clothes and fingers, and that ball of fluff is now sitting atop the grass mat inside the wagon.

Thanking the herder for his help, Amidy went on her way. Again, it wasn't too far from her previous stop when a massive upended cartload of dry grass came into view. The bales had sealed off the road all the way when they had burst during their fall, leaving a giant roadblock with no way around it. Sighing, for there seemed to be many problems tonight on the way to the village, she walked forward to inspect the mess. The hay was easy to move, but the still-whole bales were larger than she, and required force preferably with a crowbar. The picclo flute in the back was nice and sturdy; great for use as a crowbar, but Amidy would never do that.

She took a block of wood from the roof of the wagon and used it in a place of a proper crowbar with a stone as a fulcrum. It took a while, but eventually all the large bulks of hay were lined up beside the road. The bar of wood, once part of a roof, was now broken, having shattered while moving the last bale. As some small payment, she picked up some loose strands of dry grass cast aside and placed it among the wool and mat.

From atop the last hill, she could see the close fires of the next village. Relieved that it wasn't far, Amidy took off in the high moonlight…just to get stopped by a load of fallen cloth. The yards of wool and cotte had taken over the road with its lumpy, bulky form. She tried, but by herself, she couldn't push it away, but perhaps pulling? With hauling, she needed string; perhaps string like on the strummer; but Amidy would never do that.

In a stroke of luck, one of the rolls of cloth was not as bulky as the others; small enough to twist into a nice rope. It took a while to wrench it free from its heavy companions, but soon it was dragging the weighty cylinders onto the sides of the path. After seemingly hours of hard work, the cloth-free pathway was just big enough to squeeze the cart through. Taking the wrinkly twist of cotte (since it's to ragged to make into anything now) with her, it was folded as best as she can and placed with the rest of her "souvenirs".

The morning starshine was sweeping over the horizon in a wave of golds, reds, and pinks as Amidy struggled into the village. She compared the beautiful sight to one of her songs when…

"Dear, can you help me?"

Amidy turned around to see an old beggar sitting on the side of the path, leaning on some baskets. Looking up at her again, the lady asked, "Can you help me? I am old, but have lost all I have in a fire not too far from here. I have nothing now, and I prefer to see the Woodpast Gates in some comfort."

Amidy felt very sorry for the passing woman. So she rummaged around her cart for anything to spare, but only saw the grass mat, the wool ball, the hay, and the cloth. An idea began to form around her head.

She tucked the mat under the woman, and bundled the hay and wool in the cloth, folding it inside to make a pillow. Laying the woman on the makeshift bed, Amidy played one of her favorite morning songs:

_Softly rising o'er the star does shine bright;_

_Clothing everything in a robe of light_

_In the welcome morning._

_Red and pink, lilac and gold;_

_Colors to match all young and old_

_In the welcome morning._

_Ladies and lads go to their early work;_

_Children in the long shadows lurk_

_In the welcome morning._

_Grain and grass sway as breeze blows through;_

_Pickers and tenders band in each close crew_

_In the welcome morning._

_My dear, you are enveloped in the cloth of the gods;_

_Oh, how beauty is royal or in ends and odds_

_In the welcome morning._

As the last refrain left her lips, the world of music left its grip on her and dropped her in a land of light. At first, it seemed as if morning really has swept everything in a robe of light, but the sight didn't fade. Turning around, Amidy didn't see any familiar thatch houses, any playful children asking for a tune, not even her wagon. She only saw the old woman atop her grass mat and pillow. But she wasn't old anymore.

Instead of gray-brown curls, shimmering white hair the color of snow slid down her full shoulders, fading into the pastel green robes suddenly outfitting the woman, outlining her narrow, tan face and bright blue eyes. Amidy knew her; a statue inside her wagon an exact copy of the entity standing before her. "Aridesse, goddess of music and song," she breathed, captivated in awe.

"It is I, child. I have been watching you from afar. I have seen your patience, your hard work, your selflessness. And I personally saw your kindness. And for that, I bestow you something for such a life you lead." Amidy watched as the bed things below her unwove and leapt into Aridesse's arms. As the items mixed, light bounced within like the morning she just left.

Aridesse held out a glass globe before her. It was marble-sized, made of some green glassy material, with a top spiral of white and a base of light, hay-colored strands stuck together; all hanging from a grass-like chain threaded through a loop in the white. Amidy bowed her head down as the godess attached the end clasps together around her neck. "My dear, this holds some of the songs of the gods. Use it well and spread your music."

---

Amidy awoke as the morning light drifted into her wagon. She was lying on the bare floor as young children peeked in from outside. "She's awake!" they cried, and began begging ecstatically for songs unknown to them. Amidy smiled as they sat quietly, awaiting a tune from her voice and hands. Fingering the glass around her neck, she lifted a harp from its pegs and began:

_Crystal water, purest tear,_

_Amity, amity, my friend._

_O'er our heartland lays our life,_

_Amity, amity, my friend._

_Partner to partner, mate to mate,_

_Amity, amity, my friend._

_May our hearts never touch strife,_

_Amity, amity, my friend._

_Cross the stars into pure light,_

_Amity, amity, my friend._

_And find dreams of reality,_

_Amity, amity, my friend._

_Fly high, soar among us below,_

_Amity, amity, my friend._

_My friend, my friend, amity,_

_My friend, my friend, goodwill… _

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Vocabulary:

-Yazin (Para. 2): Drum-like instrument with three different surfaces on one base.

-Beeme (Para. 5): Miniature sheep with a lot more raw wool as a coat.

-Mani (Para. 5): Curly horn with pegs to control sound pitch.

-Picclo flute (Para. 7): Very large clarinet with curving bottom

-Cotte (Para. 9): Rough cotton

-Strummer (Para. 9): Narrow guitar-like instrument with seven metal-cotte strings


	6. Town of the Blue Stones

**Author's Note**: The story might not seem so tied to the title early on, but just keep reading. Sorry it's so long…

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The first groups of the Naurasian people walked the land without magic, even though they were woven from its delicate strands. Natura, in her curiosity, had wanted to see how these tall, intelligent children of her would act cut off from the regular lifestyle of their surroundings; most creatures being able to communicate with each other.

One group was special, she could see. This particular crowd had excelled in using the things around them to aid their survival. Clothing woven from grass fibers, small carving knives from stone; even crude farming tools of dry wood hardened by the rare fires of lightning. But it wasn't those momentous innovations that caught her attention; it was the fact that they were the only vegetarians of the six groups first made by her hand.

Their omnivorous neighbors were hunter-gatherers, not farmers. Even though there were multiple attempts to teach them the ways of agriculture, the early clans had not taken the kind gestures and kept on with their ways of life. Finally, they gave up on trying to educate the other five groups, for it was getting quite expensive, traveling for days at a time to come back in failure.

With the trips, however, bonds with the creatures of land and sea were tightened by acts of friendship. One teaching band was gathering their dinner when a black-and-white niffer crawled out of the bushes and acted like it was hungry. The band felt sorry for the extremely skinny creature and warmed him with blankets while feeding it berries intended for their stomachs instead. Once full, the visitor left, squeaking happily. A couple of days later, the same band was returning when a whole family of niffers came and offered them food.

Another example was the effect of rescuing a large fish from a thick bed of kelp, ending in a thick bed of seaweed good for the vegetable wraps long-distance travelers take along with them.

Then there was that time a myelin was trapped under a fallen branch…

And the nauraya with a broken wing…

…and so many more. But this companionship with the forest and river inhabitants didn't turn out too well.

---

A few moon-turns later, starvation gripped the land. Just about every living creature was suffering by the drought earlier in time, particularly the five omnivore groups. The creatures they hunted mostly faded away with their other source of food, plants. Bare trees and yellow grass were everywhere; inedible and useless. Fish and seaweed had moved downstream for the season, and the land practically became a savannah; empty and a dog-eat-dog world.

For the first time ever, the five groups gathered together and agreed to work as a team during the entire season of dryness. Walking into the sixth group's territory, however, they were stopped in their tracks.

The earth under their feet grew soft and moist walking deeper into the land. Around them were organized rows of plants with different creatures, including the people themselves, working to keep it neat. Trying to hold off their hunger for after meeting acquaintances (although some of the children had no control at all), the crowd trundled off onto a stone-riddled path and saw a small mass of land cut off by a river connected by a single bridge on where two guards stood with hardened wood spears tipped with stone. One turned around and mumbled to a small bird, on which it flew up to a tall building on the island. "Please wait for my leaders to come and greet you," said one of the guards with a small accent.

It wasn't even two minutes until a small group of guards came up with two figures. Both were dressed in soft cloth colored blue, brown, and green, and the male held a spear tipped with some strange blue stone, while the female was wielding a thick branch cut with patterns of leaves and spirals. "I am Auran, and this is my wife Eneli," he said, bowing while keeping a hand on his spear. "What pleasure do I have with you, my fellow people?"

"We ask for assistance through the famine caused by the drought a few weeks ago," replied one of the original leaders, "Our people are tired and hungry and thirsty; can you help us?"

"Unfortunately, we too are feeling the pinch of less water and dry air. Our crops are not getting the right amount of water and are failing ever so slightly. But what am I talking about; we never turn away anybody in need of our assistance. Come in, come in, and help yourselves."

As the last words dropped from his lips, the crowd before him turned into a stampede and charged into the town. Over the tumult, the leader roared, "But don't gorge yourselves until we have none!"

Many of the kind villagers fed the new arrivals, but hesitantly, for manners weren't too common and food wasn't as treasured as it was with them. In fact, the mess was so bad that even cleaning through the night didn't clear up much at all.

The next two days were identical to the first. Make a mess, eat, get lazy, eat, sleep…maybe eat a little more. The carefully accumulated food not needed for the time disappeared quickly and the crops were stripped bare. Finally, on the morning of the fourth day, the piles of complaints to the leader's house had overflowed and Auran was forced to clear the group out; by spear point if need be. Seeing them all outside the boundaries, he authorized food to be given to them for the return home.

Despite the bags of fruit at their backs, almost every adult there was not feeling too well about getting kicked out. The last three days were heaven to them, not forced to work and growing around the middle easily. And now they were kicked back in the empty, not yet healed land after seeing that one of their own lives in luxury? No one noticed during their stay that work was a priority, that feasts like that happen once in a blue moon, and that the homes were mostly clean despite the bouts of mess making. So they expressed their anger in the only possible way to all five of them.

"War! We will battle and take over their treasures and make them our own!"

---

Five moon-turns later, the stone walls of the boundary were broken down by battering rams of logs. Running pell-mell into the crop fields, they thrust sharpened stones and spears at anyone, creature or person. The field workers that were fast enough to get away ran into the city for safety, and the huge doors were shut on the marauders. The Siege of the River had begun.

It wasn't the best time for it, either. Despite the strong sureness that nobody can break in, the thought can't be used as food. The ravaged fields had produced little, and they were already rationing when the fight began. Everybody knew that they could survive about a month only unless something happened.

And all this happened under Natura's watch.

Now she knew that despite her children could survive their environment without it, they can't survive each other without magic. Wrapping herself in a dream, she flew down to Auran and whispered into his ear…

The expedition members were disbelieving his words. They were the builders, designers of the town. They built every inch of the area from the cobbled road to the heavy stone roofs of the wall's towers; how could a quarry hide itself underneath them without their notice? Oblivious to their complaints, Auran walked closer and closer to the main doorway. His followers stiffened; was he going outside?

But just before touching the heavy block of wood, he bent down to the center of the mosaic spiral under him. _Wait, that wasn't there yesterday_, thought the group, watching their leader remove the rock right in the center, twirling it in the air before tracing around the spiral lines. As they kept their eyes on the double spirals, their jaw dropped as the congruent spirals moved, making a mirror image of themselves, straightening ends turning upwards; all while Auran was still standing on top, not moving an inch as the tiles rearranged themselves. He then took the missing stone, now a plain white, and reapplied it to the black patch in the center of the bronze and ivory.

Not flinching at all, Auran watched the left spiral uncurl beside him into a tunnel opening. Without hesitation, he slid right in. Speechless with shock, the builders followed.

Down below, all was dark; so dark that they could not see even after trying to adjust for three minutes. And so they just felt their way down the twisting pathway. Footstep after footstep followed for who knows how long until suddenly, Auran stopped. After noticing this from the floor, each and every one of them looked up to see why he stood still.

Lost in the darkness (and their turned-down eyes) was a seal glowing pale white; practically a beacon in the black inkiness behind them. The pattern was the same as the spirals above. They stared as Auran placed his blue-tipped spear on the carving and pressed. Like a door, a thick panel of stone fell back. What lay ahead astonished all of them.

Nobody had ever wondered how Auran had obtained his spear. Now they all knew that the gods, perhaps Natura herself, had to do something with it, for before them was a huge cavern of, not plain rock, but a shimmering bright blue stone very identical to the tip of Auran's spear.

Auran drew a thin stick from inside his robes and attached feathers to one end. Bending down, he took a chunk of blue stone from the ground and secured it to the empty end of the pole with some sticky liquid from a leaf. Now he was hefting a spear, only smaller and fletched with stiff feathers. "W-what is that?" stuttered a person in the back. Auran didn't answer; he just went on farther into the blue cavern into another tunnel leading up.

---

Practically the entire town was up on the wall that afternoon. On the highest tower sat Auran, leaning out the window to face the camp of his brothers, his enemies. In his left hand was the fletched spear. In his right was a strange contraption consisting of a supple, long wilip branch wrapped with cloth in the middle and the ends tied together with a string of twisted plant fibers, making the straight branch curve quite a bit.

As the star above came nearer the middle of the sky, Auran moved. Holding on to the branch under the wrapped area, he moved it so that the string was nearer to his face, and moved the tip of his hand onto the feathered part of the mini-spear. Putting it together, his right hand drew back the feathers and the string caught in a small cut on the edge while his left hand held up the tip now touching the wood. The stone shone in the high starshine as the smooth tip faced the clouds.

"Umsicci menige trapen aura!"

All on the wall heard what he said very clearly as the high noon sun struck. Instantaneously, he let go of the string, shooting the stick into the air. Blinding blue light built up in the spear tip, exploding on contact with the ground around the camps below.

Strands of brilliant light encompassed the camps, making everything glow inside an impenetrable white cage. The fireworks of it all frightened the caged army, sending havoc like a tsunami upon the land. For days on afterwards, the cage of light held. So did the mayhem inside. So the townspeople got curious when all of a sudden, silence swept the area.

---

Respectively, a small group of people had gathered at the edge of the cage on either end to discuss the treaty.

"Peace for all time."

"No, that's not possible. Peace for as long as we can handle it."

"Okay, write that instead. And add that we shall uphold that peace together with the creatures."

"What? But we eat them…"

"Under our laws, no."

"Oh."

And the discussing went on for quite a while; nearly a whole moon-turn of it. Eventually all their thoughts edited went on paper and read out to all of the people and creatures. For hours they kept at the demands, rules, etc. But at the end, peace reigned.

---

Now king, Auran sat on a chair overlooking the new city. Leaving his home was heartbreaking, but the hands of the gods above led them to a place seemingly better than before. A forest was at the back, a river at their sides, and a tree as their home. What better can it get?

"Auran? Something wrong?" He turned to see his wife in the doorway, holding their one-year-old son in her arms. "No, Eneli. It's just so different I don't think I'll ever get used to it."

"Well, I hope you learn because our son has to take the throne one day, too."

"Let's hope happiness like this can last forever," he said in reply. Later, he never remembered speaking those words, just as he never remembered the first spell casting. Someone else had done that.

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Vocabulary:

-Niffer (Para. 4): Short squirrel-like creature with hollow tail for storing food in.

-Myelin (Para. 6): Like a miniature tiger, but with housecat-like face

-Nauraya (Para. 7): My name for G'dar's kind

-Moon-turn (Para. 9): Roughly a month

-Wilip (Para. 32): Willow with stiffer branches


	7. The Dippers at the Well

Once in the beautiful mountain basin of Tallinn, there lived a quarry worker, her husband, and their three sons. Happy were their lives until upon returning from work one day, the mining wife fell very ill. No present treatment could relieve the raging fever, the hacking coughs, distant hallucinations, and the obvious deterioration of her body. But then, upon awakening from a twisted reality of a dream, she beckoned her sons over to her bed.

"My sons, do you want me to live?"

All three chimed in at the same time, "Yes, Mother. Very, very much."

"There is…a way…but it is dangerous on the way there; maybe even deadly. Do you want me to tell you?"

"Oh, yes. Anything," they begged, leaning in to listen to her fading voice. Coughing a bit, she spoke in a strained voice, "Beyond our humble home, far into the mountains, is the highest peak. So grand it is that it has no name to satisfy its majestic being here on the land. On the summit, higher than the clouds, where even the royal city looks like a speck of dust, is the Well of Healing Waters." All three sons gasped.

"So your tales are true? The blessing waters of the gods themselves actually exist?"

"Yes, my dears, and it is a secret that our community have kept for a long time. It is the only thing that can heal me now. But," she looked them straight in the eye with a fire still not snuffed out from her illness, "The path to this mystical place is very dangerous, filled with trickery and death. But if your cause is just, beings of light will try to help your journey to the top. Try to recognize their youthful magic. And at the top," she started, but fell into a coughing fit, "T-take not the…god's…dipper."

Leaving their mother to sleep, the three sons planned at the rough table away from her worrying ears.

"Do you think she was sane when she said that?" asked the eldest son.

"I think so. At least she was not lying about the lack of treatment," replied the middle son.

"True, so what are we to do?" wondered the youngest out loud.

"I think we should follow the path Mother described," said the middle son, "For even if we do not find the legendary well up at the summit, we might as well be known as the first to be at the summit known as "too high to reach" for any proper Naurasian."

"True, true. Then I will go first," said the eldest, flexing his quarry-built arms, "since I have the most experience, and the most likely chance to reach her cure."

"You really do not believe in that, do you? You just want the fame of climbing to the top before anybody else," accused the middle son.

"Well, a little," his brother admitted, "But I care more about Mother."

---

"Return safely, Brother," yelled the youngest, as his oldest brother started along the path into the cavern known to lead to the peak of the great mountain. He waved back, a great pack slung across the breadth of his back. "And don't forget not to take the Gods' Dipper!"

---

The path to the cavern was no problem, well worn and smooth from the caravans of traders who take the path around the mountain to the towns beyond. Upon reaching the base of the giant, he left the path for the rocky forest. It didn't take too long to find the gaping hole in the (seemingly whole) surrounding sheath of stone protecting the secret tunnels inside.

The hollow pathway inside was pitch dark. The eldest son reached into his pack and struck a flint for flame. The little spray of sparks met the small wick in the waiting lantern, and illuminated the craggy walls, as well as a brown, furry face. He cried out, and shrunk back as the floating creature silenced his echoes and sat itself in front of his shaking form. "Can I help you?" it asked. By the flickering firelight, the new arrival had a round, fuzzy face with short ears and a slim, tan-furred body and four limbs, a rather cute look for a cave dweller, not to mention that it spoke in clear voices not too common among the creatures of land, sea, and sky.

Shocked at this turn of events, the son was slow at answering, "Um, yes. I'm looking to get to the top of this mountain. My mother is sick at home and she says that the water up there is the only cure."

Nodding like it approved of his words, it said, "Well, I can take you to a friend of mine at the middle of the path up to your destination. Do you want me to?" Remembering his mother's warning of tricksters, he politely refused, instead taking the steep, winding pathway into a large cavern set in the middle of the mountain.

Tired out from the climb, the small rockslide, and the many beasts that attacked him on the way, he slumped down on the cavern floor and was about to eat his lunch when the last of his lantern wick was burned, plunging him once again in darkness. Out of habit (for this happened three times already), he quickly strung the new twine of fiber onto the puddle of melted sap and lit it, again coming face to face with another creature. Keeping his mouth shut, he scrambled back onto the wall behind him, preparing to flee if the strange being thought to attack. But it didn't. In fact, it just lumbered up to him; a giant, curly-furred something with spines around its neck and feet big enough to cover his whole face. "I'm hungry," it said out loud, in a clear voice not unlike the other fuzzy thing at the entrance of the cave, "If you give me something to eat, I'll help you somehow."

The son, realizing that this creature was only trying to snag a quick meal, ran to his pack and threw some fruits to it from afar. Gobbling them up quickly, it asked a queer question, "You want to go to the peak, yes? Well, why?" He gave the same answer he gave the other furry creature at the opening to the path and this…thing replied in much the same way.

"Well, I can take you to the peak of the mountain up at your destination. Do you want me to?" Again keeping the warning in mind, he refused by running full-on into a new crevasse in the cave, trundling again into another upwards path and into the lairs of more ferocious beasts before seeing a light at the end of his tunnel. Closing his eyes, he ran far up, oblivious of the claws raking his flesh and the cold wind bearing down on him and flew out into the open snowfield. Sliding along the powdery flakes, he stopped by having his side bash into the side of some stones. Looking up, he saw the well, but even if he used the longest rope to wet it, the water by itself just receded from his items. It was while he was pacing the cylinder of stone when he spotted the two dippers.

One was a regular beaten-tin dipper, and the other was a sparkling, polished wood dipper with tiny gems embedded in the stone-hard wood, capped with quar'z and rimmed with it, too. All of his thoughts vanished as his hands reached for the shimmering handle of its own accord, but when he touched it, the wood glowed, and the eldest son was trapped as a ruby in the handle of the dipper.

---

Far below, back in the basin, the middle son began to get impatient, and prepared for his own trip up the mountain. The youngest was worried, for his eldest brother has not yet returned. Perhaps he never will?

Either way, the middle son left home to "find Mother's cure", as he put it. "Return safely, Brother!" cheered the youngest yet again, "And don't take the Gods' Dipper!"

---

Like the brother before him, the middle brother came face-to-face with a furry somebody in the opening to the cavern tunnel. But his younger eyes found the small, nearly undistinguishable flow with all the messy fur. "Young sir, can I help you?"

"Well, my mother down at the basin has caught ill, and the only cure is the water from the well at the summit from this mountain," he said carefully, trying to decide if this something can be trusted.

The furry face brightened at the words. "I can not take you to the summit, but I can bring you to a friend near the center of the path you are willing to take. Do you want me to?" The brother was somewhat hesitant, warnings ringing in his mind, but he finally relented with the aura he faintly saw in its fur and clambered onto the comfortable, furry shoulder…

It was about five minutes later when the creature burst through the stone wall with its passenger still clinging on for dear life, trying hard not to slip off and become of the rock they were passing through with great speed. "Here you are; now enjoy what ever you mortals do while waiting. My friend will be here shortly." With that, the great creature turned and leapt back through the rock.

He was about to take a bite out of his bread when his lantern went out. "Drat," he said, fishing through his pockets for the wick, and upon relighting it, found a flat-footed, spiky-mane something studying his fallen loaf of bread not too far from his feet. "You want this?" it asked. Not shaken by the innocence of its voice, the son quavered, scared to make a sound. "N-no."

"Oh, then I'll have it. Can't waste food in a place like this," it said, gobbling up the bread in no time at all. "By the way, what are you doing here?"

"My mother is ill, and needs the well water at the top of this mountain."

"Ah…Do you want me to bring you up there?"

_I can't be this lucky going up the trickiest mountain in all of Naurasia_, thought the youth, so he politely refused and walked on.

---

The brilliant snow was splattered with blood as he stepped foot on the summit, clutching the shallow wound on his arm. It wasn't too long until he too found the well and its two dippers. Unlike his brother, he had a slightly larger memory, and didn't grab the dipper for a while, but greed sealed common sense and his hand met the carved handle.

_I supposed it can get worst,_ thought the ruby to the new emerald.

---

As the emerald joined the gems of the dipper, the youngest son was trudging up the hill to the opening of the mountain. Upon lighting his first wick, he too found the furry creature and was petting it softly after seeing the aura of light around the fluffy fur. "Young one, what are you doing here?"

"Mother is sick and needs some magical water. My two older brothers left to get it, but didn't return."

"Let's see…pet me around the ears once more and I'll take you to the middle of the mountain. A friend there can help you the rest of the way."

"Yes, please kind one." Smoothing down fur from its head, the boy clambered onto the shoulders and flew off. He found the ride exhilarating and was upset to see the creature go. He gave it some of his lunch for thanks.

Eating alone in the cavern was frightening; eating in the dark after the lantern went out was just horrible. It took the good part of ten minutes to calm down and replace the flaxen thread. He shrieked again as the spiny-neck thing found itself in his face, so to speak. His great head recoiled at the echoing sound emitted by the small throat. "Easy, I'm not going to harm you," it said, covering his rabbit ears with the flat paws. Eventually the scream died down as the boy realized that it too was glowing with a bright aura. The lunch exchange was made (or dinner exchange, since it was dark outside), and the boy flew through the rock.

Moonlight outlined every bend, every dip in the snow, so the little boy was able to follow the almost-buried footsteps of his brothers to the well. There the two dippers shone ghostly in the pale waxen light, tempting the boy to seize the golden glow for as much comfort as a favorite blanket. But his mind was well set; able to remember the warning his mother gave him at the start of this harrowing mess of missing persons.

Trying his best not to go anywhere near the glimmering handle, the youngest son lifted the tin handle…

…and nothing happened. Sighing with relief, he bent forward and lifted the dipper now full with aurora-laced water, glistening like the stars above. Smiling with triumph, he uncorked a small bottle at his waist and filled it to the rim with that single cup of water. For some reason, he again filled the dipper and splattered the water onto the goldwood handle still propped up on the well. The gems disappeared, spraying themselves across the sky, two falling to his town.

"Well, I'm coming home, Mother."

---

The revival was instantaneous as the three drops of crystalline liquid fell into their mother's mouth. She sat up so fast, she nearly fell over as the youngest son took away the bottle and dropper. Although they didn't doubt the miracle before them, the other sons tried to force their mother back in bed, to no avail. But she wasn't looking to strain herself.

Mother and son embraced in the room, the aurora water between them.


	8. Pillars of Coral

Time can change so many things. Even in the single blink of an eye, one can miss the sight of a lifetime, and never know it was just in his or her grasp. Although, in present times, this part of life is quite annoying, let me remind you of what it was like before the Coral Pillar had fallen to its sandstone form seen so often in the starlight off the southern coast of Relmarka, half-sunk in the underwater canyon forming, once, its protection; now its prison.

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In the distant history of our people, there lived a sorcerer by the name of Chamil. Unlike the other court magicians that specialized in the natural magics such as water, light, and earth, Chamil was blessed by Ticklit, god of time. From childhood, he was able to conjure spheres of slowed or quickened time. This worked well for his farming family, who used his skill for slowing time to keep their wares fresh.

It was in the market where Chamil, now a grown man, was found by the head magician Torah while unsealing the time spheres to reach the vegetables. He popped them, sucked back in the magic, and was towed back to the palace where he was initiated into the brotherhood (there were females, but they just refer to the whole as a male) within the same day.

There, Torah specially trained his meager skill and changed it until Chamil was able to create any geometrical shape bubble of warped time. It also differed in size, too. Once for the sake of practice, he was able to suspend an entire island off in the ocean about the size of the royal palace and its grounds.

In the palace, the work he did wasn't very serious. Coupled with an extended feeder spell, he worked at quickening the growing pace of the garden; he reversed time on the palace walls; sometimes he did some quarry work at cutting rocks by beating away the seams with time (he made sand the same way); and the least favorite thing he did was make the fertilizer by working with remains of nearly whatever was lying around.

More often than not, he dreamed of taking adventures like his peers. He wanted to feel the exhilaration upon bringing rain to the fields, shoving away tidal waves, leading volcanic lava through the land into water, condensing lightning into special blue stones; things like that; things away from this boring, empty thing of a palace. Sure, he could do some rudimentary elementals such as call water from the ground and beckoning heat into an item, but wasn't very good at it, so he was never chosen for dangerous missions able to take one's life if safety wasn't cared for.

So he ran away.

---

Ten years after Chamil's disappearance, the southern part of Relmarka sent messages to the palace casters concerning a teal, pink, yellow, coral-like tower that suddenly became visible off the coast. Unfortunately, it was half-sunk into the tricky underwater crevasses which could slice a boat in half if the hull came too close to a concealed edge of a wall. Nevertheless, a handful of Naurasian guards maneuvered themselves across the jagged sea and landed on the island. Upon standing on the doormat, however, the first guard found himself teleported over the water near the other shore.

Anything that wasn't the floor got teleported to the same spot the first guard was if they touched even one hair of the grassy mat. Knowing that they couldn't deal with things like this, the guard retreated to make way for the Knights.

Three naurayas were seen in the air the next day, their six legs equipped with magical flat plates to keep them standing in the water while their companions do some exploring. The green nauraya landed first, the plates stiffening the water so it can hold its weighty load. The red and the orange were next, expertly landing directly next to each other. The Knights all had the same plates in their sandals, and were trudging up the water onto the island. The doormat was set on fire magically, erasing it from their list of problems. With that, the tower began to glow, the rough stone door slowly opening.

One of the Knights hesitated to go through the door, finally staying outside because of "a feeling I had". Two Knights were more than enough, they thought, so they took a step in. With a small _pop_, the Knights were catapulted right out into the water. The plates prevented them from going far in, and in less than five minutes all three were back to square one, doormat and all.

This was very confusing for the lot of them. "That can't happen so easily."

"I know; conjuring teleporting magic without being there is very difficult."

"Not to mention draining."

"We're missing something here, aren't we?"

"Wait…" the Knight that wasn't soaking wet walked up to the coral wall and kept a hand near the stone, but not directly on it. "This is strange…"

"Torah, did you find something?" The soaked Knights looked up at the ex-head magician as he gently pulled off a twisty nearly-invisible strand of something. "This magic…" His eyes snapped up, "Chamil!"

Just as he said the name, the glow of the tower enveloped the entire island. "W-what's this?" stuttered one of the Knights. "It's a restarting magic."

"Restarting?"

"Yes, and by the looks of it, we'll be catapulted off again in three, two, one…"

Torah never liked his pants wet. Not now, not ever.

---

"So that's how the mat kept coming back; he restarted it!"

"What?"

"It was a past time of ours; he would cast the spell as a bubble around a set of rocks and focused on how he wanted it to be when it 'restarts'. I then would do something with the rocks; turn them blue, take one away; and when the time to restart comes, they go back to the form they were in regardless of what I did. I once saw a rock I buried inside a stone actually break out of its casing to join the rest of the rocks."

As they stood on the water, dripping back into the sea, Torah felt something at his foot…and saw the edge of the restart bubble. Eyes widening, he ran back to his nauraya and hurryingly flew into the air, followed by the two others.

_Three, two, one…_

Opening his eyes, Torah found himself over the water without his nauraya. His companions were there, too, but they were upside down in the waves. Managing to get the two into the air, the bubble around them changed into a grey-hued, misty kind of bubble. "What's this?"

"Something we won't like."

"What?"

"An arena."

---

As the three Knights were suspended in their own bubble of time, the other clear restart bubble spread fast over southern Relmarka. The people didn't notice too much, but many did when about one in seven were catapulted right out of their homes, off the streets, even out of the small castles, crashing through anything in their path. They were protected from damage, but that's not saying that it didn't hurt.

The people that were left were farmers like Chamil in his young days. The town sellers were confused when their neighbors were sent out, but most were in the fields, oblivious to the sudden banishment. But they were not oblivious to the fact that the crops were growing faster than ever.

Ten minutes later, the land 'restarted'. The tossed-out townspeople who managed to get back inside the bubble were, again, thrown out. The harvested crops stayed, but the restarted half-grown plants now had weeds among them, too. Just about everything was going the wrong way. And the palace was next.

---

The three Knights were standing cautiously, swords out in front, when a cloud of insects suddenly solidified from the mist and charged. For five minutes, stings tore into their body as the sword swings did minimal damage to the opponent. Suddenly, the arena restarted, but didn't take away the early fatigue of the three astonished Knights. Again, the insects came, but magic now was tossed at them, so by the end of five minutes, all the insects were gone.

The next opponent was a giant two-headed creature not unlike the Earth dog, but with sharp wing-like projections on its flank as big as each Knight. It took three tries to finish it off, and one Knight even had a tooth pulled out of the carcass before it too vanished back into the mist.

Third in line was a metal creature, shining with a black aura around its slim, spiky body. The size of a straw mattress, it had three dangerous horns atop a snout filled with iron teeth, as well as the blades that served as fur and armor. The three considered just dying before getting destroyed limb by bloodstained limb by the horrendous monster. Right then, the mist again restarted, doing nothing at all but start their match as the monster charged at the battered Knights, scaring one onto his behind. Torah raised a sword, powering an ice spell as it came nearer. At the last second, he lashed out, slashing a small sliver of the creature. The paw plowed through regardless of the hit, and slammed Torah into the ground. But it lifted, ever so slowly, as the ice blossomed from its cut armor. Seconds that felt like hours flew by as the metal frosted over.

---

The present king of Naurasia was enjoying afternoon tea when he bothered to look out the window. The liquid was sprayed everywhere as he ran down the towers and into the Spellcaster's Hall, where he ordered every magician, assistant, and apprentice to try and repel the sphere inching closer and closer to the palace walls.

With no success.

---

At about the same time, the three Knights escaped from their battle and appeared unscathed on their nauraya's backs, floating right in front of the coral pillar. Together, they descended and burned the mat again, this time stepping over the ashes into the tower together. Sighing with relief when they found that nobody had teleported out, they ran over the stone floor and climbed the first thing that came in sight; a spiral staircase that seemed to lead into oblivion. Not stopping, the three charged it like a herd of maniac creatures, bursting through the door at the end of the line…

…and nearly fell out the tower doing so. Apparently, the door they burst through was actually a window, so after heaving each other out of harm's way, the three were befuddled at what happened. So confused, that Torah actually tried to swing his head to hit the stone wall in frustration, instead getting sucked through the hidden portal _alone_.

He got himself on a completely different island, with no tower, no city, no companions, no people. Or so he thought.

"Come to fetch me, have you, you stinking Knight?" Shocked, Torah turned his head slowly to the speaker, not flinching at all as he saw that Chamil was standing behind him. The surprise was to the magician, not the Knight, as Chamil's jaw seemed to drop onto the sandy floor. Recovering, his eyes again flew to its previous malicious glare now aimed at his own sky-blue eyes, also drawing out dark gloves inlayed with coral. As he fitted his fingers inside, Torah recognized them as Caster's Gloves, the basic equipment for magicians to channel their magic. In reply, he drew his sword, setting it in the attacking position. "Chamil, why are you doing this?" he asked, not keeping his eyes off the glimmering gloves. In reply, his ex-pupil charged, gathering basic fire magic in his palm. Quick as the wind, Torah leapt back, swinging his thin sword at the gloved hand.

His eyes showed surprise when the glove turned and gripped his blade. Time swallowed it up to the hilt, making it rust and fall to pieces before him. Grinning wickedly, Chamil swung his free hand and out shot a needle-sharp gust of wind aimed at Torah's face. He did not parry it fast enough and the magic blew off the sap-leather gloves on his hands, just about to fetch his extra dirk. The energy forced him to his knees, cradling his battered hands away from Chamil's view.

"Why am I doing this? Well, nobody let me do anything," he hissed, stepping closer. "And since leaving your pitiful brotherhood, I have done something. I learned. I took up the dark arts and planned to model the world into someplace everyone can have a chance to do something. And the best way to do it is to take the throne. Oh, and on the way, it wasn't too bad to eliminate the other people that were on the way there, too. Just the controlling ones, that's all. But this won't matter to you." Lifting one hand, a dark ball gathered inside. When it was as big as a head, Chamil swung it like a club, aiming for death.

It never reached its target as a ball of pearly light flew up to meet it, blowing the two contenders to opposite sides of the island. Chamil looked up to see Torah standing straight, the green gloves of the Spellcaster's Hall inlayed with icestone for his hands facing his unprotected face. "I'm sorry, but if this is your reason for magic, then I have no choice but to banish you once and for all."

---

Outside, the two Knights ran as fast as they can off the island as the tower around them began to change. Once in the air, they watched as witnesses while the time bubble imploded, swallowing itself with quickening time. By the time it vanished, all that was left of the tower and what happened inside was a series of pillars made of sandstone mixed from the coral sand with Relmarkan dust…and a green glove inlayed with icestone, its fingers intertwined with a black glove inlayed with coral.

---

The king was helping in the shattered village when he noticed a boy alone in the crowd. He held a bundle of vegetables encased in a bubble, with a look that showed confusion and misunderstanding. "Young sir," the king began, approaching the boy, but never finished, for he then saw that one hand, the one holding the vegetables, was in a green glove, inlayed with coral and icestone together.


	9. Riddle of Binding

There once lived a man by the name of Naira. He dwelled in a small community located in the Eastern Desert of Naurasia of the isle Kendry. Being secluded and pinned in by whirlpools, torturous typhoons and dangerous storms, the nearly uninhabitable land is a simple place of nature, though still under the hand of the king.

Naira's home was wedged in the center of a tiny oasis. So tiny, that even the trees had homes growing on their thick branches. He was one of the lucky ones that had a hut on the oasis floor, near the life-giving stream that winds around the green island. This made him a popular man, for he was at the age where marriage is common among the desert people.

It was not too soon after his twenty-ninth year when the marriage offers began coming to his door.

Desert ladies, especially ones from Kendry, were renowned for their beauty all around Naurasia. It only took about a few hours before some man sees one of the ladies and believes it's love at first sight.

But the desert women are hard nuts to crack. They know they are beautiful, they know they make men swoon when their eyes alight on their bodies, and they like to tease the men until one stands out for each of them. In their homeland, however, it usually is the other way around. Which is why for six entire moon-turns, every lady in the area has been in Naira's house only once.

---

At the end of the year, seven sun-turns (days) before Naira's birthday, six sisters finished the trek across the turbulent waters to Naira's homeland, all wanting to be his wife.

It had not been a happy voyage, for each sister was highly competitive, and dearly wanted to sabotage any hope of her siblings taking the man before she did, so it took a while before all six managed to find the proper hut together.

As always, Naira welcomed them in to the guest rooms in the back, and one at a time, invited them to dinner.

To the first; the eldest, he started with a bowl of cherries on the table. "Miss, what is in this bowl?" he asked. "Cherries, sir," she replied, in a matter-of-fact voice. She watched as he picked a dark red one in the pile, and ate it, spitting out the pit onto his palm. Suddenly, he cracked it open, drawing out a tiny scroll concealed inside. This he handed to the lady along with a plate of baked fruit, and bid her to her room. As she walked through the hall, she read the paper:

_To be my lady, go and find stone…_

As the first left, the second came in, slowly approaching the table that now had lychees on the table. "Miss, tell me what is in this bowl." Her eyebrow went up in confusion as she answered, "Lychees, sir." She too watched as he peeled the skin off, ate the fruit, and cracked the seed inside to hand her another scroll of paper with some salad. Soon sent to her room, she read:

_To be my lady, find what ladies loaned…_

The third soon appeared, waringly watching the wooden bowl of peeled jackfruit as if it would explode at any moment. As her sisters did, she listened to the man's comment. "Miss, what is this in the bowl?" Mouth puckering, she curtly answered, "Jackfruit, sir." Shortly after, she walked across the hall, bolstering a platter of roasted vegetables, sauce, and a small scroll that had come out of the yellow fruit with a brown seed.

_It read: To be my lady, seek out many parts…_

Next was the fourth, who bounced cheerfully in and nearly unsettled the bowl of walnuts in front of her. Once she calmed down, she too received the request asking her to state the name of the object in the bowl. "Why, walnuts, didn't you know?" was her enthusiastic reply, coupled with her swinging arms and thrown nuts. It took a while to find the correct shell, but he nonetheless found the scroll and handed it to the smiling lady with a bowl of nut-fruit soup with bread. Nearly dropping the dainty paper, she squinted her eyes to read:

_To be my lady, seek out six of six hearts…_

Sweeping the excess nuts away, Naira invited in the fifth, a shy, quiet lady that didn't make a sound at all, not even noticing the bowl of unpeeled, fuzzy almonds. "Miss? Tell me what is contained in this basin." Not even looking up to meet his eyes, she muttered, "Almonds, I know." She had to repeat her statement five times before Naira could comprehend what she said. He nodded, and peeled away the skin of one to reveal not the flesh, but a scroll. She was sent back in with it and a stew of desert foods. Peering at the tiny scrap, she read:

_To be my lady, discover the binding forever…_

Finally, the sixth, and the youngest, maiden walked in, sleeves nearly a mile long when set on the table. Having been left out every time while their mother had her 'lady's mannerisms classes', she piped up first when seeing nothing on the table. "Oh, where's the dinner? Why, there's nothing but some icky dates here; eww!" Naira didn't even bat an eyebrow; he just swallowed some date flesh and cracked open the pit inside. He passed over the miniature scroll with a tray of stuffed breads, dismissing his guest about three times before she understood. "Sorry!" she cried, leaping into the hall. Her scroll read:

_To be my lady, discover how negatives get together…_

---

Seven sun-turns were given to all six sisters to solve the mystery in their scrolls.

Like many competitors do, each sister was very wary of each other, always keeping their scroll hidden from the other five. Meanwhile, every waking moment of their day was spent trying to unravel the riddle piece.

They scoured the house and its surroundings. Like so many others before them, the house was a mess even after the second of the last six days. The trees were scratched, its bark thought to be hiding something. Thatch was nearly nonexistent on the rooftop. The small smokestack got cleaned quite nicely with a linen dress.

All this and more happened while Naira grinned from his throne of a kitchen table.

---

The sisters began to start worrying on the second-to-last day. So worried, in fact, that for the first time in ten-odd years, they all thought working together wasn't a bad idea. Really; he'd be part of the family one way or another.

They met under the moons that night.

"Sisters, I inform you that I am close to finding the secret of my riddle," squealed the third sister.

"Oh, no, you aren't. If I can't solve it, I doubt you nut-brains could either," taunted the first.

"What? I was the first to solve the mysteries back home," shot the fifth, no longer the shy lady.

The bantering, backbiting, bad behavior, and bad-mouthing took some hours to wade off their minds. By then, the sisters were tired enough to stop bickering at each other.

All of them were getting irritated, and threw their papers in the center of the ring they made. "Eh?" said the fourth, picking up the sixth's paper, "This isn't what mine said."

The sisters looked up, and, mystified, looked at all the papers together. The edges were slightly torn, showing that the papers were once together as a single sheet. "Hey, it's a poem!" cried the sixth, happily.

Together, they lined up the scraps depending on whose paper it was, thinking the eldest sister had the first stanza, the second oldest had the second stanza, and so on.

It came out:

_To be my lady, find the hardest stone,_

_To be my lady, find what ladies loaned,_

_To be my lady, seek the many parts,_

_To be my lady, seek out six of six hearts,_

_To be my lady, discover the binding forever,_

_To be my lady, discover how negatives get together. _

"Hardest stone…"

"Go to the end; I think it's easier."

"You can't get negatives together…"

"Six of six hearts? Many parts?"

"What a riddle…"

"No wonder nobody came out with him as their wife."

"Mm-hm."

---

By the time the bright stars rose, all six sisters had fallen asleep together under the trees.

Morning came with all of them awakening to a new light, that being sisters wasn't really that bad. So from that came the agreement that they just should give up and go home; if Naira really was that resistant to getting married, so be it. Not even the king could probably get him out to a woman, they thought, so turning up their noses, began to exit the house.

Naira awoke to see his guests walk together out of his house, chattering cheerfully…well, not too cheerfully, but better than before…all the way out of the oasis town. Smiling, he finished breakfast, then walked back to the room where his guests were given their riddles. On his side of the table, he slid out a hidden drawer that contained a small book and box.

Taking out a single sheet from the book, he read:

'Loan the hard stone of competition to all the women…many parts, many hearts…bind all their hate, what repels them as negatives, and seal them together…and create friendship forever more.'

"A challenge fit for binding; a love not to be," he chuckled, fingering the hidden ring inside the book, marked with the circle of eternal loyalty to the higher powers.


End file.
